


Closed Door

by skepticalghouligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticalghouligan/pseuds/skepticalghouligan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hides behind his closed doors, and Dean is tired of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Door

Sam's door was shut. Sam almost never shut his door, unlike Dean, who loved the privacy his bedroom in the bunker created.

  
The older Winchester scowled. He stepped closer to the solid wood, hesitating with his hand above the doorknob. Maybe Sam was just sleeping, or possibly having some 'me-time'. Dean dropped his hand and pressed his ear to the door, straining to listen.

  
Muffled, Dean heard what sounded like whimpering. A moment of silence, then a quiet sob. Dean scowled, immediately concerned, and pulled back, knocking once before pushing open the door.

  
Sam looked up, startled. His eyes were red rimmed and he was gripping his pillow, the fabric wet where his face had been.

  
"Can't you knock?!" Sam snapped, shoving the pillow away and sitting up. "I did. What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asked, feeling awkward in the doorway. "It's Sam." The hunter threw his brother a bitch face before wiping his cheeks. "Leave me alone."  
"Why are you crying?" Dean pressed, ignoring Sam's glare. "Stubbed my toe. Go away, Dean."  
"Nope."

  
Sam rose and tried to push past Dean, but the smaller hunter braced, widening his stance and pushing his palms against Sam's chest. He could feel the younger's heartbeat, strong, but fast, under his skin.

  
"Dean, move, or I'll move you." Sam growled, his face set in angry determination. Dean mirrored the expression, not breaking eye contact. "Tell me what's wrong, Sam."  
"Nothing." He shoved Dean toward the side of the door and tried to slip through, but Dean grabbed his shirt collar, catching him off guard and yanking him backwards.

  
Sam landed hard on his ass, pushing a grunt from his lips. "What the hell?!" He snapped. He got up just as Dean widened himself to fill the doorway as best he could. "Talk to me, Sammy. Did someone die or something? Cause that's the only time I ever see you cry. Even if you are a big sissy."  
"No one died, I'm just..." Sam sighed and looked at his bare feet. "I'm just being a big sissy. Can I go now?"

  
"That wasn't an answer, Sam." Dean said simply, crossing his arms. Sam sighed softly. "Do you know what today is?"   
"The date?"  
"No... What today is. It's November second, Dean."   
Dean's face dropped a little when Sam said the date. "That's why you're crying? Cause of Mom? You've never done that before." Sam's jaw tightened. "Mom isn't the only one that died today, Dean. Jess."  
"Dude, it's been eight years." Sam's expression flipped then, from sad to hurt. "Way to be insensitive." He muttered, turning and flopping on the bed. "Sam, I'm--"  
"You know why I was crying now, Dean. So go away."

  
Dean sighed and turned to go, then stopped. He turned back and went over to the bed, sitting and sighing. "I'm sorry, Sam. That was a dick thing to say. I cried over mom, and over Lisa, for months... Still tear up every now and then." Sam looked over at his big brother. "It's okay. You're right, I should be over it, it's not like I haven't dated or screwed a ton of people since her, this day just makes it... I don't know."  
"Feels fresh." Dean supplied. "I get it... Have you been wallowing in shit like this every year?"

  
"When I can... Most of the time we have a case, or I don't get time alone."   
Dean sighed softly. "Do you think... Come on, let's have a drink."

  
"I really don't want to." Dean nodded. He watched Sam for a moment before stretching out next to him. "What're you doing?"  
"Wallowing with my baby brother." Dean said simply, grabbing one of the pillows and shoving it under his head.

  
Sam looked over and smiled softly. "It's not too girly for you?"   
"Everyone needs to grieve, Sammy. Some people just do it slower. You shouldn't be alone. I'm gonna stick by you, that's what I always do. That's my job."   
"You really don't have to."

  
"Sam." Dean barked, making Sam look over at him again. "I'm not gonna let you cry in an empty damn room. I hate that you hide so much crap from me."   
"I wasn't hiding it, I just wasn't talking about it."

  
"That's called hiding it." Sam sighed, and Dean held up a hand. "I'm not starting an argument. I'm just saying, I wanna help you get through this." Sam smiled, his eyes filling with fresh tears at Dean's words. Dean returned the smile and opened his arms, wrapping them around Sam when he laid his head on his chest. Dean stroked Sam's shaggy hair, letting the bigger man cry with no teasing or judgement.

 

After Sam had his cry and took a long nap in his brother's arms, Dean dragged him from his room, grabbing them beer and making food.

  
"Sam," Dean finally spoke as they are silently. When Sam looked up, he continued. "You're my little brother. Even when we fight, I'm gonna take care of you... Don't close your door anymore."

  
"Dean," Sam chuckled as he spoke, "I'm gonna have to close it sometime."  
"I don't mean the physical one, moron... I mean YOUR door. The one to your thoughts and feelings and all that crap going on with you. Let me in when it gets bad, okay?" Sam smiled softly and nodded. "Okay." Dean grinned, plucking up a fry and chucking it at Sam, laughing when it bounced off his forehead. "Bitch." Sam sent a fry back, and Dean jumped, catching it in his mouth. "Jerk." Sam replied with a laugh.


End file.
